Only Bars Between
by Bittertooth
Summary: Nicola Eizenstadt works for Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane, a place where those that are mentally unfit for trial mentally fester and fight their inner demons while doctors try to fix what some say can't be fixed. The patients aren't the only ones in need of help, though, as Nicola soon figures out that not all demons rest inside your head. (Rated MA)
1. She Had the World

_From: Murkoff Corp, Human Resources, United States Division_

_To: N.__ Eizenstadt,__ MMA(1625-3)_  


_Subject: RE: Request for Reassignment (PLEASE RESPOND ASAP)_

_To Miss Eizenstadt-_

_Emotional distress is an unfortunate but unavoidable side effect of working with those who face mental challenges and disorders. While we try our best to provide a safe place for our employees to work, there is some degree of risk with working at Mount Massive Asylum. _

_Unfortunately, we cannot process your request for a transfer at this moment, but we have contacted the administrator at Mount Massive to see if any of the attending psychiatrists have time to talk with you. It might help to have someone in the same working conditions to talk to about your circumstances and see that you are provided with whatever services you need to make your employment with Murkoff as comfortable as possible._

_ -Human Resources_

_P.S – Have you looked at a pamphlet for Psychopathological Proximity Stress Disorder (PPSD) lately? It's good to know the symptoms and keep on the lookout if you think any of your coworkers are suffering from it so they can be treated as soon as possible._

Nicola wanted to tear up the crinkled, sweat stained paper, but only went as far to rip off a few pieces from the corner, knowing she was going to need it when she sued Murkoff for employee endangerment. The usual tick set in, her foot tapping against the ground with no real rhythm as she looked out of the window of one of Mount Massive's libraries. A copy of _The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat: And Other Clinical Tales_ was flipped to a random page in front of her, giving the illusion that she was studying up on the shit she had to face as a PCA every day. She crumpled up the paper in her fist before pressing it against her mouth, feeling the edges of the paper dig into her lips as she let out a dispirited sigh.

This wasn't new to her, the automated responses, the rejection, the feeling that they thought she was dumber than the stuff that was stuck to her shoes. The paper in her hands was the results of her fifth attempt to get out, and only the second she had ever received a response from. The first response was a simple apology for 'losing' all of her other emails and that they would get back to her shortly to address her issue. That was five months ago.

She wondered how much it would hurt to jump out of a window as she pressed her cheek against the cold glass, her hand coming to the latch and fiddling with it. It didn't unlock, naturally. People would think the messy paint job had jammed it, but she knew better. How much would it hurt, jumping from a window? Not the landing part. She was close enough to the ground that she could touch the weeds under the window if she had the chance. How much would the glass and wood hurt? What if a shard made its way into her eye? What if one cut the artery in her leg and she started bleeding ever-

Half of her vision flooded with speckled darkness, scratchy wool rubbing against her face as someone attempted to pull her beanie over her face. Her hands flailed in the direction of her assailant as her foot managed to find the toe of someone's shoe, stepping on it hard. The hands pulled away just as she found them, latex gloves brushing against her skin as whoever it was playfully slapped her hands away.

"What the hell, Benny?" She asked, her voice coarse from yelling all day. Stray locks of dusty blonde hair brushed against her nose and cheeks as the hair net she wore underneath her hat pulled at the skin it clung to. "I almost shit my fucking pants." She said, pulling the net away from her face.

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Benny asked, sniffling before pulling out a Kleenex he had been hiding in the pocket of his scrubs. "You look like shit, by the way." He joked, his own dark auburn hair slicked back with enough product that it probably killed what was left of his brain cells.

"Gross. And I don't know. I do suggest maybe trying to act like a normal person and not piss off people who work with crazies for a living." She rebutted as she fixed her hair. The dark circles under her eyes seemed even more apparent that usual, her hazel eyes sunken in and dull. The minimal amount of makeup did little to hide the lack of color in her cheeks and lips. Her off white scrubs were badly wrinkled and smelled like they hadn't been washed in a while. A bland, grey beanie sat on her head, hiding the mess that was her hair and keeping her ears warm. Her blood always seemed to run a bit cold.

"There's no such thing as normal people here, Nikki, and I didn't mean the 'you look like shit' thing."

"I'd like to think I'm at least somewhat normal, and I know you didn't, and you know how much I hate that nickname."

"Right, right. Sorry. I forget. What's the note for?"

Nicola looked to the note in her hand, barely holding onto it with her pinky and thumb after the epic battle with her friend. "Just Murkoff telling me to fuck off. The usual." She propped up her legs on the table as Benny sat down across from her. "Tell me, Benny. Have you seen anything unusual? Heard something that really wasn't there? Maybe you're starting to think there really is such a thing as the dreaded Walrider?"

"Psh. They sent you that shit too?" Benny asked, propping his feet up as well. "They put it on my performance evaluation in big, bold print. I was half tempted to report you." He said, lightly kicking the sole of her shoe.

"Well, I'd hate to break the news to you, but I think HR beat you to it. Apparently they sent word to the docs and want me to talk to someone, since they obviously aren't going to give me what I want." She said, carefully kicking the book to the ground so it wouldn't be torn up by their feet, flinching slightly at the thud it made.

"Are they serious? Isn't that illegal?"

"I'm sure it is, but hey, it's just one more thing I can add to my list when I sue the shit out of them."

"Well, in the meantime, what are you going to do?"

"My vacation is coming up soon, so I think I might just book it, give them my two weeks two weeks late. They can't really blame me. "

"I don't mean to be the one that pops your bubble, but when is the last time you actually broke a law? Hell, even a rule?"

"I've broken plenty of rules. You just weren't around to see it."

"Oh shit. We've got a badass over here."

"Stay off the internet, Benny." Nicola replied as she kicked his feet off the table. The walkie talkies, attached to their hips, came to life with static. A voiced mumbled something over the channel, incoherent to both of them. Nicola unclipped hers, holding it to her mouth as she spoke. "What was that again?"

"You're needed in 's office, Eizenstadt. Would you mind bringing him his coffee while you're at it?"

Nicola muted her radio, sighing as she pushed herself out of her seat. "Speak of the devil and he shall tell you to come and wipe his ass for him." The radio beeped loudly as she spoke again. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Don't go." Benny teased. "If you have to, at least forget the coffee, or better yet, piss in it."

"You know. That's a bad idea to give to the person who gets your coffee."

"You don't have the guts."

"Best start drinking water."

"Seriously. Don't go. You don't need them throwing this shit in your face." Benny said, the light atmosphere dying with the pitch of his voice. "What is the worse they are going to do if you don't go? Fire you?"

"I'm not going, Benny. I'm not a masochist, but this seriously doesn't involve you, so don't tell me what to do and not do."

Her fellow PCA sighed, picking up the book that laid neglected on a floor. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just do what you got to do. Please don't piss in my coffee." He said, looking at cover of the book. "Hey. How does this book end? Does he ever figure out that his wife if not a hat?"

"Nah. He figures out that a hat is not his wife."

Nicola arrived at the doctor's door, holding the steaming coffee, with the hem of her scrub, in one hand. The thin material wasn't enough to stop the coffee from burning her hand, so she was stuck juggling the hot beverage back and forth as she waited for Dr. Snow to finally answer.

"Doctor Snow?! It's Nico- It's Eizenstadt! Someone radioed me saying you wanted to see me?" There was no answer. Nicole rapped her knuckles against the wooden door. "Is something going on in there? Do I need to call someone?" She pressed her ear against the door, hearing something that faintly sounded like a Newton's cradle.

"Sorry! Sorry, Miss Eizenstadt. I didn't hear you! You can come in!"

Nicola eagerly pushed her way in, tired of juggling the coffee and the sensation of her hands being on fire. "I brought creamer and sugar too. I don't know how you take your coffee." She said, setting the drink down and pulling an assortment of pink and blue packets out of her pockets, followed by little cups of every sort of creamer she could find in the stock room. "That good?"

"More than good. I actually don't take anything with my coffee, but thank you none the less."

The thought of jumping over the desk and strangling him crossed her mind.

"Black coffee? A man after my own heart." In truth, she hated coffee.

The good doctor let out a painfully awkward chuckle, small talk not his strongest suit. "Why don't you take a seat? I'm sure you've been on your feet all day." He said, gesturing to the seat on the other side of his desk.

Nicola took the chair, thanking him as she took in the bland scenery of his office. His little space in the nut house was so-so, the walls an uninteresting white that looked like it was beginning to age, the corners some shade of yellow. The only window was blocked by a bookshelf, the last hours of daylight pouring in through copies of old folklore books and issues of _Psychology Today_. The desk in front of her was a stark contrast to the sparse and depressing room. Manila folders cluttered his desk, threatening to push off pictures of his wife and kids at their youngest daughter's graduation. Patient's names were messily scribbled on the tabs. She wondered if her name was on one of them yet.

"No computer?"

"We don't like keeping computers around where the patients are. When you tell them something they don't like, they tend to go for the most expensive thing in the room first. Feel free to let your hair down. No one is going to be grabbing for it here."

"Did you learn that the hard way?" Nicola replied, trying to drum up some sort of conversation as she pulled her hat and hairnet off, hoping that the doctor, in his old age, would forget why he even called her here. Her hair fell onto her shoulders, the band she had used to keep it in a bun now tangled in her locks somewhere on the back of her head.

"No. We are prepared for whatever challenges out patients want to throw at us, but this isn't about the patients. This is about you, Miss Nicola. Can I call you that?"

"Call me whatever you want." She said, biting the inside of her cheek as her foot began tapping against the ground.

"I've heard word that you've been contacting HR and asking for a transfer. Is that right?" He asked, scratching the hastily groomed stubble on his cheek.

"Yes. I'm sure you've heard about why I want to transfer too."

"I have. A lot of people have. It's a…" He paused, thinking about how to word it properly, his hands intertwining together on his desk. "It's a somber predicament you're in, Nicola."

"Then you can understand why I want to get out of here, right?" She asked, voice hopeful.

"I do, but I think that we can arrive at some sort of compromise. I'm sure nobody here wants to see you leave." She bit harder on her cheek, trying hard not to bring up the fact that the only reason they would probably hate to see her leave was because she was one of the few women that worked there. She was good at her job. very good, but it didn't take much to clean up shit, cut lunatics' hair, and sedate the ones that get too rowdy for a doctor's taste.

"What kind of compromise? How can there be a compromise?" The tone in her voice dropped, the hope that someone was finally on her side dropping with it.

"Well, it's my professional opinion that being transferred isn't going to really help with your problem. You're only running away from it. Could you say, with confidence, that you have received any sort of closure since the incident?"

Her foot tapping became sporadic as her fingers worked at the hem of her shirt. "Closure? Sure. I got tons of closure when that madman got thrown in here. What more could I ask for?" Her eyes diverted away from his, looking to the papers and folders on his desk, attempting to read the names. The doctor was quick to shuffle the folders into some appearance of order, resting his arms on top of them.

"His file isn't here. I checked before you came in, and you could always ask him why he did what he did. Get some answers so you can move on."

"I don't need answers. I really don't. I don't want to know why. It's not going to change anything, Doctor Snow." She insisted, her eyes continuing to look elsewhere, finding a mystery stain on the wall that he failed to hide behind his desk. "I just want to get away from here. I'll keep working for Murkoff, just somewhere else."

"But that doesn't really solve anything, Nicola. What if, say a few years from now, something, heaven forbid, happens and you lose the chance to ask questions and get answers? Don't you think you'll regret that?"

"No! Why the hell would I regret that? I've been wishing for him to get shanked or hang himself every day since he-" She stopped, taking a deep breath, her lip quivering as she tilted her head ever so slightly to somehow make the tears forming in her eyes disappear, not wanting to cry in front of a doctor. Snow offered her a tissue he grabbed from a drawer in his desk, offering it to her.

"There's nothing wrong in still being hurt about it. It's only been about a year and a half, right?" Nicole nodded. "Right, and why I don't expect you to really want to confront him, in my professional opinion, I think it's what you need to do."

Her lips pursed together as she took the tissue, dabbing her eyes before looking down, sniffing loudly before wiping her nose. "I don't need to. I know I don't need to. This is fucking stupid. All of it is fucking stupid." She mumbled, saliva and mucus bubbling in her throat as she spoke. "This is fucking bullshit. I just want to get away from all of this."

The wrinkles in the man's face didn't deepen, his face seemingly stuck with a stoic expression. He had had his fair share of people crying and resisting in his office. "Nicola. I'm going to be honest here. While you are working at Mount Massive, we can't risk you causing any sort of mental or physical injury to other staff and patients, and to stop that from happening, we need you to be in the best condition possible." Nicola let out a loud, unrestrained sob, cupping her mouth with her hand as the tears and snot began pouring out. "I strongly recommend this. We'll have him physically restrained at all times and guards at the door. You won't be in any danger. If it's too much for you, we can stop and try again later, but I want you to at least try this."

Her body shook, muscles tense around her shoulders and chest as air filled and escaped her lungs too quickly, her cheeks beginning to turn red. "Please don't make me do this, Doctor Snow. Please. I don't want to go near him or see him and I-I-" Her breath hitched it her throat, sending her into a fit of coughing as she choked on her own spit. "P-please!" She shrieked before coughing again, holding the tissue to her mouth as she tried to spit up everything caught in her throat.

"I'm not going to make you do anything." Doctor Snow said over the sound of her wailing. "I can't make you do anything. It's against the law to force you to do this, but… Here." He offered her the half empty box of tissues, continuing to hold it out even after she wouldn't accept. "But, I honestly think it's for the best for all parties involved. Can you at least look at me when I'm talking to you?" Nicola quickly looked at him, her eyes bloodshot and puffy. "Please take the tissues and calm down." His tone was firm, his gesture of kindness not something that was an option. "Again, I can't make you do this, but trust me when I say that if you do not at least try, you are going to regret it, and I don't want you to regret anything."

Nicola continued to look at the doctor as he bowed his head, tired of watching the woman cry. She sniffled again, taking the box and pulling out at least six tissues, blowing her nose loudly. "I don't want to do this." She insisted, voice cracking.

"Nicole, if I thought there was any better route to solving this problem, I would tell you."

Her elbows came to rest on the desk as her hands supported her head. She could feel the veins in her head pulsing with her slowing heartbeat.

"Are the guards going to be inside the room?"

"They will be right outside the door, and the room has two cameras installed. He somehow lays a finger on you and the guards will be on him like flies on shit."

She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on, her fingers lightly massaging her temples as she looked to him, sniffling once more.

"If I do this, and I say I can't do it anymore or for any other reason, I want a promise that I'll be transferred."

"I can't promise that, but I can try to pull some strings."

"And I mean a real transfer, not to accounting or to the cafeteria staff. I don't like the fact that there are only bars between him and me. I want there to be oceans between us. I'll even learn a new language if I have to. It's not like I have anything here anymore, obviously." She gestured to the empty space next to her as she wiped away a stray tear.

"Try and I will do everything I can to get you what you want."

She reclined in her seat, taking a moment to breathe as she looked around, taking as many moments as she could.

"Nicola?"

"Fine. Fine. I'll do it." She said, holding her hands up in surrender. "If you don't mind, though. I'd like the rest of the day off, if you can arrange that."

"I can and will."

"Thanks." She said, quick to stand up from her chair, putting his tissue box back on his desk. "Schedule the closest possible time for this. I want to get this over and done with."

"Absolutely, and if you need anything else, don't be afraid to ask me or one of the other doctors. We're here to help you as much as we're here to help the patients."

Nicola didn't bother responding, only lazily waving goodbye as she exited the office, leaving the good doctor to find the polaroids he had lost in his mess of papers and folders, the faint, metallic clicking noise beginning again soon after she closed the door.


	2. Outer Circle

Tacks. A Multitude of tacks. Some were made of only metal, while others were topped with bright, saturated colors. Others were so big in size that it was comical. They covered every inch of floor that she could see, all facing pin side up. Around her was nothing but more and more tacks, the sharp ends glinting from the lone florescent light above her.

Nicola had nowhere to go, forced to remain sitting down by a gravitational pull she couldn't see. There was a sense that people had been there before, but they were long gone, leaving her to figure a way out of this trap. The idea that the people, who were once there, created this conundrum crossed her mind as she picked up the tacks, the feeling of abandonment running through her veins, branching out until it had nowhere else to go. Why did they leave her here? Were they hoping she would fail this strange test? One by one, she examined the pushpins until she found one that suited her well. Green was far from her favorite color, but it somehow felt right between her fingers.

After lifting up her shirt to expose her stomach, Nicola pushed the tack into her abdomen, the pain dull and easily forgettable. She pulled it out, watching the blood slowly trickle down her skin, soaking into the fabric of her scrubs. She pushed it in again, leaving it there as another tack found its way into her hand, repeating the process over and over. Some slipped out, falling into the wrinkles of her pants as her stomach became a canvas of gore. She began using both hands, unable to stop herself as she grabbed for old and new tacks, reliving the sensation of the needle puncturing her skin over and over before she began dragging her instruments, no longer satisfied with little pricks and stings. Little punctures became gaping wounds as she reached for the bigger ones, impaling herself with them and using them to hold up her shirt as she continued on. Her pants stuck to her legs, wet with blood as her hands dirtied the cold floor around her with smears of red. Her nose filled with the scent of iron as her stomach convulsed, stained to the point that her flesh was swallowed, made insignificant by the tide of blood rolling over it. In her final act, she found the biggest thumbtack she could reach, forcing it under her ribcage before pulling down. Blood pooled around her legs was she forced the pin down, the taste of metal filling her mouth as she began spitting up a rank mix of saliva and hemoglobin, raking through her teeth before gushing out of her mouth. Her eyes gazed over her work, the tack falling from her painted hand as she pried the fresh wound open, ignoring the wet, squishing sounds of organs moving out of the way as she reached in and grabbed something soft and moving. She yanked hard, pulling out a squirming, tiny arm.

Nicola's eyes opened, her skin clammy and wet with sweat. A tiny, shuttered breath escaped her as the realization that is was all a dream dawned on her. She pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes before running a hand down her stomach to make sure it was all just a figment of her subconscious. Her hand felt around on her sparse end table, her vision even more impaired in the darkness. She quickly gave up her search for her glasses, needing to relieve herself of the creeping sensation of sweat rolling down her face and neck. As she wiped her skin dry with her blanket, something crossed her mind, her body suddenly curling in on itself as the intrusive thought failed to leave.

Nicola made her way through the barren halls of Mount Massive, glasses clearing the way for eyes that were too puffy and irritated for contacts. Her peppered cardigan kept her warm, the hood around her face smelling of rose and musk, Joy by Jon Patou. Her bare feet padded against the hard floor as she made her way to the lobby, the lights always on in case of late night arrivals for people in involuntary hold. She passed by the night secretary, waving hello before finding her seat at the piano tucked to the side of the main lobby.

"Nightmares again?" The secretary asked, taking a sip of her energy drink as she watched Nicola, her voice echoing in the large space.

"I'm afraid so, Naomi."

"What was it this time? Was it one of those log flume rides running over your family again?"

"Tacks. Really colorful ones. They were so bright and annoying that they burned my eyes in real life." Nicola joked, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Are you okay?" Naomi replied, pushing a strand of coal colored hair behind her ear as she took nibbles from a granola bar.

"I think I will be, but then again, a normal person would be terrified of disemboweling themselves with the things people put up lost dog and garage sale flyers with. Not me, though. It kind of pisses me off, really. Even my brain fails at scaring me." Nicola said as she pulled out the bench, careful to pick it up and not drag it across Murkoff's precious floor.

"I don't know how you do it. I dream about my teeth falling out and I wake up bawling my eyes out."

"You know those dreams are about being afraid of your own mortality, right? What with baby teeth and all that. Is it okay to drink those while you're pregnant?" She asked, knowing they weren't, but not one to play meddling doctor.

"Well, if you want me to stop, I'm sure my snoring will provide great backup. I'm not complaining. Not like I like greeting whatever psycho they scrape off the streets. It's even worse having to do it with a smile, but this place was great healthcare, and with a little shitmaker on the way, I'm gonna need it. Don't tell me you don't like being able to take time off so you can go get a checkup and getting to watch everyone else keep on working" She said, relaxing in her chair as her hands rubbed up and down her stomach. "I have a feeling it's going to be twins."

"How do you know that? You're only two months in, right?" Nicola asked, pulling the fall board up, the feeling of the ivories under her fingers again bringing a sense of calm with it.

"I am, but I really feel li-"Naomi was interrupted by the sounds of Nicola testing, her fingers finding the right keys before beginning to play a simple melody. She looked in Naomi's direction, receiving only the middle finger in return for her gift of music. She missed a few keys, blaming it on the piano being horribly out of tune.

"Can I sing along, Nic?" Naomi asked over the piano, leaning over her desk. "I promise I'm good."

"You know the words?" Nicola replied, keeping her eyes on her fingers.

"Please. When I found out about Fantasia, I couldn't stop watching until I knew every word. How do you know it?"

"Same place, sort of. My mom found out about it from Fantasia too. Our little mommy-daughter activity was music, so she asked our teacher to teach us this song. She learned how to sing it. I learned the piano part. We made everyone else horribly jealous because all their kids wanted to sing stuff from The Little Mermaid or whatever the hell was out at the time."

Naomi stayed quiet, biting her bottom lip as she watched on, now feeling like she was intruding on something personal.

Nicola looked to her from the corner of her eye. "It's okay, really. I don't mind. Gotta practice for the kid, right?"

The secretary rolled around in her chair for a moment, listening to Nicola play the beginning of 'Ave Maria' over and over, waiting for her moment to jump in, but not before she noticed something emerging from one of the hallways.

"NIC MOVE!"

Nicola looked up just in time to see a mass of flesh and fabric coming at her, weight crushing down upon her. The bench under her broke as her and her assailant crashed against the floor, chips of wood flying everywhere as the remains dug hard into her backside. A good two hundred and thirty pounds writhed on top of her, an arm coiling round her waist as a hand delivered a punch to her face, busting her lip open. A voice, guttural and coarse, screamed of bringing Jesus back with the offerings of blood and fire. Her own hand managed to find the remains of one of the legs of the bench, her fingers burying themselves in the madman's beard before yanking to the side, bringing his head with him as she began bashing the wooden leg against his temple.

Her assailant tried to copy her, managing to hook his fingers in her mouth and yank down, her jaw feeling like it was going to break as the side of her head hit the floor. She bit down hard, blood filling her mouth, the man pulling his hand away as he howled in pain. In his moment of weakness, she kicked him in the groin, pushing him off as he dared to fall on top of her. Naomi was nearby, moving back and forth as she waited for the moment to use her Taser against the attacker and not shock her friend in the process. When the opportunity was open, she jabbed the weapon into his side, the clicking of electrical current heard as the man seized and shook about, his screams nothing but gibberish and please for it to end. Once sleeping orderlies and guards rushed into the lobby at the sound of the commotion, separating Nicola and the patient. He was not finished with her, though, using the remnants of his strength to grab Nicola's ankle and bite hard at her Achilles' tendon, Nicola screamed, falling out of the grip of the guards as she used her free foot to kick him square in the face, blood splattering everywhere as his nose broke.

The guards yanked her away from the patient, seeming more concerned about what she was going to do to the patient then what he was going to do to her. Benny was soon with her, first aid in hand. She didn't notice him, too focused on the man who attacked her, who was now being carried away. She watched as he left a trail of blood droplets behind him, the racking pain, both physical and emotional hitting her as soon as he was out of sight.

All she could do was cry, spitting out blood even as Benny tried to clean her lip up. The guards barely caught her by her arms as her knees gave way, her screams filling the lobby as Benny picked her up. He ordered a guard to put pressure on her ankle as they carried her to the employee infirmary, the sound of Naomi screaming about why there was no alarm quickly fading behind them.

"I really just want to get this over with and get back to work."

"The doctor said you shouldn't be standing on your ankle."

"I'm not standing on it. Do you see the crutch?"

Nicola stood at the door to the visiting room, leaning heavily on her crutch as she kept her weight off her injured ankle. Benny stood next to her, using her injury as a new excuse to weasel his way into the drama that was her personal business.

"Just… Please go." She said, watching as two guards and approached.

"I heard about the accident. Are you al-"

"I don't want to talk about the accident. I don't want to talk about how I'm doing or if I'm okay. You people are fucking smart enough to know I'm not okay, yet your only solution is to just fucking push me farther down the hole and see how many branches I hit before I reach rock bottom. You want to push me? Fine. Lets do this. I mean, surely having to come face to face with the person that killed my mom won't hurt that much, right?" She asked, dramatically waving her hands around before almost slipping, still not used to relying on her crutch for support. Benny made some distance while pursed his lips, taking a moment before digging the keys to the room out of his pocket. "We'll be right outside if you need us."

Nicole slowly hobbled her way inside, the room smelling stale, the same old, dirty carpet under her feet. The only furniture was a simple desk, littered with drink stains on only one side of it, and two chairs, one currently occupied by a man.

"Oh my god. What happened to you?" The man asked, his voice old and raspy from years of smoking. His skin was tan from long days in the sun, freckles and liver spots riddling his skin. What was left of his hair was an ashen blonde being taken over by the dull grey that came with age. His sharp green eyes stayed fixed on her, filled with worry as his looked her over, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening with each new injury he found on her person. His left arm was missing, along with most of the left side of his jawline being scarred, melting into the hole that used to be part of his mouth.

"What did they do to my little girl?" He said, able to keep the spit in his mouth after years of practice.

"Don't… Don't say that. Stop acting like you care." Nicole declared, taking her seat, keeping her crutch nearby in case she needed to waddle away.

"How could I not care about my only daught-"

"Just shut the fuck up." She continued, slouching in her chair as she looked at his restraints, thankful they left him without his prosthetic and even more thankful for tying what was left of him down.

"Listen. We're going to make this quick, okay? I don't want to see you anymore than I have to, so tell me. Why did you do it? Why the hell did you kill mom?"

Tears were already beginning to well up in his eyes, his lip quivering in a similar manner to his daughter's when she got upset. Snot was threatening to leak out of his nose at any moment. Nicola hated how the sight pulled at her heart. She hated how she still felt any sort of emotion for him.

"Wh-what? I told you before. I was trying to protect you! She wanted to kill you!"

"She didn't want to kill me. She didn't want to kill anyone!"

"She did! Did you see the papers?"

"Oh yeah! The ones that said how she was going to burn up a bunch of sage and jasmine and shove them down my throat while I was sleeping because I was some sort of demon child? Because I needed to be purified? The piece of shit papers that anyone could tell you wrote?! Yeah. I saw those papers! Did you forget Mom was left-handed or were you just in a rush?'

"Nicola, I had to do what I had to do to protect you. I didn't want to do it but she was going to kill you and as much as I loved her, I couldn't stand by and watch her hurt you!" He whined, trying to sniff before snot could ooze out, but failing horribly, mucus dripping over his lips and tears rolling down his sunburnt cheeks.

"I was in California. I was in California when you killed her, and the worst part is that she couldn't even fight back because she was suffering from sleep paralysis when you did it. You…you waited until she couldn't do a goddamn thing and you killed her. Did you know that she was having an episode? Did you wait until she was having an episode to do it?" Nicola asked once more, free to wipe her own tears away.

The man was choking on his own sobs, saliva escaping his mouth and dripping on the desk as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Nicola simply watched, dumbfounded by how he could honestly believe his twisted version of events. "You know what happened to me the night all this shit happened to me, the day some freak tried to chew through my leg while I was, here's the funny part, while I was playing Mom and I's song on the piano in the lobby? I woke up thinking everything was okay. For a split second, I honestly thought mom was alive, that you two were probably fast asleep in your house, and that everything was okay. One of the worst feelings I have ever had was when it all came crashing down, and I realized that I was probably about one hundred feet from the person that crushed all of it. That is your fault. All of this is your fault because you are fucking sick, and not in the sense that Mom was. You are the kind of sick they keep locked away in the basement, that rots down there because nobody even wants to try helping them because they know it's a lost cause."

"Nikki, I know that feeling! I wake up all the time and think that today is going to be the day they realize that I was preventing something much worse. I love you, Nikki. I've always loved you, my little baby girl. You'll always be the little baby girl who I held when you were born, the baby girl I saved." Nicola squeezed the grip on her crutch.

"You don't know anything because you think this stupid little act of doting dad will somehow save you from burning in hell." She hissed, though he was long lost to nostalgia.

"I remember… I remember. The doctors were worried because you weren't crying. They had cleared your little mouth and nose the best they could but you weren't making a peep. I remember the moment I stepped over and looked at you, by god if you didn't start screaming."

Nicola stood up from her chair, her ankle killing her as she took her crutch and slammed it against his head, sending his chair to the floor with him in it. Immediately she froze in place, not even breathing as she waited for the sound of the door busting in behind her, the feeling of hands grabbing her and dragging her away so she couldn't hurt their beloved patient again. She waited, and waited, the only sound the groans of her father as he laid on the floor, his cheek already swelling.

The guards didn't come.

She finally exhaled, still holding her crutch as she looked behind her, wondering where they were, why they weren't saving his hide. She wondered why no one was, for once, stopping her. Nicola hobbled over, badly limping as her crutch now became her weapon, striking him once again before looking back at the door.

She counted out the seconds, thirty- six in total, ignoring her dad as he begged for her to stop, begged for his little girl to come back. He tried to use what he could of his remaining elbow to rock himself away to safety, leaving himself open as Nicola brought the armrest of her crutch down on his stomach. Air escaped him as he spat everywhere.

Nicola didn't smile. She didn't take any sadistic joy out of hurting him, only relief and a sense that he was getting something this place couldn't provide either of them. He was finally getting what he deserved and she got to be the one that made sure he received it. Using both hands, she brought the crutch down on him again and again, aiming for every part of his body, blind to the blood he was starting to spit all over the floor. She didn't stop. She wouldn't stop until the feeling of retribution would finally begin to wane and dissipate.

A firm hand caught her arm as she raised the crutch once more, Nicola turning around to come face to face with the guards, standing behind them. "Do you feel better, Eizenstadt?" he asked, his hands crossed as he walked over to her father, sighing at the stains his blood were bound to leave.

"I… I don't know." She replied, breathing heavily, looking to the blood that had splattered on her scrubs and crutch. "It doesn't feel good." She said, looking upon her work. "I don't feel anything."

"Well, why I would I could simply tell people how to feel, I'm only here to help you find the answers for why you feel how you do. Did you find any answers?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." She said, holding her stomach as she looked away, dread and disappointment in herself seeping in, digging into her. "I feel like shit."

"Could you take her back to her room? Make sure she gets something good to eat if she gets sick." ordered, the guard helping her out of the room as he kneeled next to the bleeding man on the floor. He pulled a mini flashlight out of his pants pocket, checking the patient's eyes. He snapped his fingers next to the man's ear, watching as he flinched from the noise.

"He's still responsive. Get him back to his cell. Make sure his wounds are treated, then take him to the labs. I'm sure they will be able to do something with him. If not, we can always do this until they can."

"Should I call for someone to clean this up?"

"No. We'll worry about it later. Just take Miss Gluskin to the next room when she arrives."


	3. Little Baby Sister

"Looks like it isn't coming out. Well shit. "Benny said as he feverishly scrubbed at the blood stains in the lobby. Nicola watched from the secretary's desk, filling his place as he helped move the piano to the storage room. She rebutted about how one didn't need a bench to play the piano, but the higher ups were having none of it. She had a feeling that they were dying to get rid of that thing since the moment it was donated from the church.

"Do you think they let that guy out on purpose to break that thing? Maybe I was just in the way of his true target. You know how tense the doctors get when god is around."

Benny let out a chuckle, the muscles in his arm tensing as he pushed down, the sound of suds foaming up as he tried to clean the dried blood from the carpet. "Where the hell did that come from? I don't think I've heard you say something so deep and morbid. Besides, what kind of guy, crazy or not, has a vendetta against piano benches?"

"You know I'm just kidding. Not being able to do anything is boring." She let out a frustrated sigh, puffing her cheeks out as she leaned against the table. "I could be somewhere else right now."

"Why aren't you somewhere else right now?"

"I really don't know at this point. I'm just waiting, I suppose. Every time I go by Dr. Snow's office, it's locked. Can I steal your keys?"

"How are you going to explain how you magically have keys to his office?"

"Good point." She said, her fingers tapping on the marble counter as she thought. "He's old enough to think he forgot to lock the door, right?"

"Doubtful. What if I just need a little extra help?"

"From the injured chick?"

"Fine, how about you put on the 'I just don't want to feel useless' act and tag along?"

"Sometimes you have your moments, Benny. This might be one of them." She said, twirling around in her chair, barely missing smacking her foot into the desk. Benny finally gave up, falling on his ass as she sighed, the rest of his body falling back and hitting the tile portion of the floor.

"How much of this to you think the new furniture will cover?"

Nicola ran her hand down her face, pulling at her lower eyelid and lip before struggling to prop her injured ankle onto the desk. "Maybe you really do need help with your job." She said, shuffling through the folders on the table, finding a post-it note with the day's date, along with a reminder of the time of for Naomi's ultrasound. Her brow furrowed, thinking for a moment before leaving it be, noticing someone approaching the desk. She rushed to take her leg of the surface, knowing she wasn't supposed to have it up there in the first place.

"Hello. I'm here for my visitation. Silvia Bridges."

Nicola looked up, surprised to see a woman standing in front of the desk. She was tall in stature, the warm light from the front door silhouetting her, reflecting against the faux leather of her coat. Dull, black hair framed her face, streaks of gray swirling around in the curls that bounced around her jawline. Her face had yet to completely give way to the age that had possessed her hair, looking like she was standing on the cusp between mature and elderly. Crow's feet splayed out from her tired eyes, her irises a shade of deep blue that was easily lost in the shadows, giving the illusion that her eyes were almost as black as oil. Her clothing was modest in an old fashioned way, her neck and hands covered from view. The only part of her pale, almost sickly hued skin that could be seen was her face, which she hid behind makeup too dark and warm for her complexion. Her clothes seemed a size or two too small, straining against what parts of her Nicola could see from her angle.

Nicola tried not to stare, fumbling around with folders and papers as she tried to hide the need to turn away from the woman's distressing stare. "Okay. Well, what is your name?" Nicola asked, knowing she gave it before, but remaining cautious. Mount Massive had its fair share of reporters trying to get their big break by trying to find the secrets to how the asylum's more famous residents ticked. Few seemed to actually do their research and realize that Mount Massive didn't accept visitors anymore, that and staff rarely had the answers the reporters were looking for anyway.

"Silvia Bridges. Dr. Snow sent for me." Her tone was polite, but firm, indicating that she knew she wasn't wrong. Nicola shifted through the folders on the desk, finding nothing before searching through the reminders that littered the desk, trying to feign the fact that she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for. She thought that there being no visitors was a given. "Is there something wrong?" Silvia asked, her gloved hand's grip on her purse tightening as Nicola fumbled around.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Bridges. I'm actually not a secretary." Nicola said, pointing to her scrubs as she let out an awkward small talk chuckle. "I'm just filling the place while our secretary is helping move our piano." Silvia turned around, seeing the stain that Benny was trying to clean. Benny looked up to the woman, quickly turning back to his work as if she didn't even exist. It had been a while since either of them had dealt with sane people, and it was showing. Benny rang in anyways, saying someone had spilled a coke.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't think it would take that long, but as much of a piece of shit as that piano was, I couldn't sit and watch those idiots try to roll it out of here." The secretary said as he rounded the corner, his expensive loafers clicking against the tile as he resumed his place behind the desk. Without thought, he invaded Nicola's personal space as he sorted through his papers, who used his chair to roll out of his way. "Can I help you, miss?" He asked, eyeing Silvia as he combed his dirty blonde hair back with his hands, making no attempt to hide his lack of breath.

"My name is Silvia Bridges. I'm sure Dr. Snow left a note or something to say I was coming." She replied, still polite, though Nicola saw the crow's feet next to her eyes deepen with stress as the secretary searched for something in his appointment book. Nicola snuck in a glance, noticing it was blank on every page.

"Sorry. I don't have anything for a Silvia Bridges. If you are a member of the press, we are going to have to ask you to please leave the property." Nicola shot a glare at the back of his at the mention of 'we'.

"If you could just ask Dr. Snow, I'm sure he'll tell you that he asked me here. Look, I even have a note from his desk." She said as she opened up the small purse she had been using as stress reliever earlier, retrieving a neatly folded note. The secretary took it, already seeing Snow's obnoxious personalized logo through the paper, but opening it up anyway. "I'm not a reporter." Silvia continued, seeming offended by the word, as if saying it brought a foul taste to her mouth.

The secretary looked to the note for a moment before setting it down, picking up his desk phone. "Just a minute, Miss Bridges." He said as he searched through his collection of numbers before finding the doctor. The trio waited in silence, the sound of the phone ringing loud enough for all of them to hear. "Dr. Snow? I have a Miss Bridges in the lobby with a note from you saying she has an appointment. Is this correct?" He stayed silent for a moment, continuing to stare at Silvia as he uncomfortably swayed in his spot. "Okay. I will. Thank you." He said, hanging up and folding the note once more, handing it back to her. "I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I didn't know we were expecting someone. If you just follow me. I will take you back to the visitation room." He said, escorting the woman away.

Nicola watched them go, both her and Benny staying silent as they waited for the sound of the secretary's overly expensive shoes to die out. Nicola used her good leg to roll over to him, struggling on the carpet before easily sliding over the tile. "What the fuck was that?" She asked, leaning over as her eyes stayed glued to Benny's mass of messy hair instead of the stain he was cleaning.

"Nobody told you? That was Gluskin's sister."

Nicola's eyes widened. "Gluskin? 'Midwife of Montrose' Gluskin?" Benny nodded in response. "Holy shit." She said, looking down the hallway Silvia had disappeared in. "What is she doing here? What happened to the whole 'no visitors' thing?" She asked, shifting slightly as the thought of someone being able to easily bend the rules crawled under her skin.

"I don't know any more than you do. She came here after you had your appointment thing with Snow."

"What happened then?"

"Nothing real out of the ordinary other than the obvious."

"Has anyone else gotten visitors?"

"Not yet, but I heard they were scheduling limited visitation for more of Dr. Snow's patients."

"Just Dr. Snow?"

"Yeah. I don't know why just Dr. Snow. You know they don't tell us shit."

Nicola turned around in her seat, holding her injured leg up as she looked to the ceiling. "Goddamn. It's been forever since I heard that name. Still makes me throw up a little in my mouth."

"Me too." Benny said, looking away for a moment as he rewetted his cleaning brush. He breathed in deeply, letting out a sigh as he continued cleaning. "Nicola, not that I'm playing along, but why would the doctors want to destroy the piano? Especially a donation. Murkoff loves things they don't have to pay for."

Nicola pushed herself with her good foot, lightly banging into the desk, a pen falling and clanking against the floor.

"They don't want the competition, I guess."

They both looked up as the creak of the front door sounded through the lobby. A stocky figure walked through, grey eyes passing over the two as the man nervously looked for some figure of authority. He only found two orderlies, one scrubbing a large, brown stain in the carpet and the other with a fucked up foot. His light brown hair was swept to the side, looking like it was rushed or done in the mirror of his car. Freckles dotted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, moving with his muscles as he gave an awkward attempt at a smile to the two.

"Hello." He said, keeping his distance from them, even as they continued to stare him down. "Do you happen to know where they are holding interviews? For the software engineer position? The people at the gate told me it was room one seven, but I have no idea where that is." He said, looking like he was about to chuckle to relieve some of the tension, but choosing not to. Benny got up from his spot, asking for the man's papers.

"First time here?" Benny asked as he waited, taking the papers and checking them over as Nicola watched from afar, confused, but leaving her comments for later.

"Yeah. The guards at the gate didn't really explain much. Oh, um, Waylon Park. "He said nervously, extending his hand. Benny took it, shaking it roughly. Waylon took the moment to walk over, shaking Nicola's hand as well.

"Nicola Eizenstadt. That's Benjamin Foster." She said, gesturing to Benny. "I didn't even know we needed software engineers." She said, the lines in Waylon's head stressing as the fear that he was somehow in the wrong place sunk in.

"For security. Blaire doesn't want a repeat of what happened to you and apparently the technology here is outdated and broken. Who would've guessed?" Benny said as he joined them, handing Waylon his papers back. "Nic, if you could try to get that stain out while I show him to the interview room that would be great."

Nicola agreed silently as she rolled back to the stain. She listened to the two awkwardly converse as they waited for the old elevator. Benny reassured him that everyone was friendly, despite the environment their words were soon nothing but static as the elevator loudly came to a stop at their floor.

"I know it's a bit scary when you first start out here, but it's scary at every job when you first start out. If you start feeling a little stressed or like you can't handle it, you can come to me and talk about it."

"But I haven't even gotten the job yet."

"I'm sure you'll get the job."

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the sound of the elevator cage closing before it began making its descent.

"SILLY! SILVIA! COME BACK! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE! THEY'RE GOING TO RAPE M-"

The door shut behind Silvia, the walls thankfully soundproof. A foul sensation ran through her body, ending at her fingers, which itched for relief she couldn't give. She slumped against the door, her usually polished hair clinging to it from the static as she slowly slid down. Her hands found her face, holding her cheeks as she waited for the tears to come, but she must've ran out.

A weight bashed against the other side of the door, Silvia shrieking as she scampered away, violently kicking the door as she pushed herself to the other side of the hall. She could hear the mad ramblings of her brother, feeling vulnerable with only the door between them. His screams for her attention soon dulled, the sound of friction between a body and the door heard as she could only guess that they had to sedate him.

The sound of rubber stoppers against the floor could be heard coming closer, a panic in their pace. "Holy hell. Are you okay?" She looked up, noticing the woman at the desk from earlier coming towards her. Silvia didn't even notice that the woman was injured earlier, glancing at her ankle before looking back up at her. "Silvia, right? Are you alright?" The woman asked again, needing to readjust herself on her crutches as she came to a stop.

Silvia didn't respond, only sat there as her eyes found their way to the ground, leaving Nicola to simply stand there, wobbling slightly as she waited for a response. She wondered if the stranger was simply going to stand there and wait for an answer, or move on by like Silvia desperately wanted her to.

"Silvia?"

"I'm okay. I just… I just need a moment. "She said, pushing herself off the ground, easily dwarfing Nicola with her impressive height.

"Want to go to the lounge? It's better than just standing out here. People start giving you weird looks if you stand out here too long."

Silvia felt a familiar sensation crawling under skin, looking over and seeing another orderly already looking at her, quickly averting his gaze and moving on with the sheets in his arms. She was quick to agree, dusting the back of her coat off before following the woman on crutches, though she had no intention of staying in the asylum any longer than she needed to.

"So, why are you here?" Nicola asked, the clicking of her crutches interrupting her words as she made her way to the lobby one hop at a time.

"Dr. Snow asked me to. I've been here before." Silvia answered, minimalistic in her answer.

"But why are you here?" She asked again as Silvia took the lead, walking a few steps ahead of her.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, why are you here when you had the choice not to?"

"That's not really any of your business. I really don't want to talk about it, so please don't try to bring it up." Silvia answered, her voice eerily monotone as she responded, making Nicola horrible uncomfortable in her presence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. " A long silence passed as she continued to hobble, the light of the front door blinding her before he looked down, having no way to protect her eyes. "It's just that I can't imagine going through what you did and being able to hold it together. "

"What is it that you want from me?" Silvia asked, shuffling through her purse to find a cigarette, the lighter in her hand. "Do you know how many times I've been through this?"

"Once?" Nicola replied, unsure if there was even more she didn't know.

"No, this whole 'How do you do it? You must be so strong! I couldn't imagine going through it myself!' runaround. I'm tired of people thinking that somehow I'm strong because I know it's wrong to go around murdering people. That's not being strong. That's being normal." She put the cigarette in her mouth, knowing she wasn't allowed to light it until she got outside. "And no. You can't imagine going through it."

"I didn't mean exactly your situation, but something similar." Nicola said as she crossed her arms, the woman's size and tone making her feel like a child being punished and embarrassed.

"You think just because you wipe these freaks' asses that you and I have something in common?"

"No, I think we have something in common because my dad is in here too, and quite frankly, it pisses me off that you have the freedom to stay away from here as far as possible and still you come back here. It pisses me off that you have the choice. That's why I asked why you came here." She said, scowling. "Because it doesn't make any sense why you would."

Silvia stared at her, the light from the door catching against the hairs that had come out of place. "I came here because I'm not strong." She said, the beginning of tears showing in her eyes. "I'm here because I can't make the –right- choice yet." She continued, finding a packet of tissues in her purse and opening them. "And every time someone tells me that there's a chance he's going to get better, I come running, even though I know that it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change what he's done. I know it. They know it, but still I come back." She said as she dabbed a tear away, her eyeliner smearing. "I'm sorry, I just… They say it gets easier over time, but I'm still waiting for it to get easier. I can't find a job. I'm living with one of my sons and he already has enough on his plate with a new baby. I'm stuck with my ex-husband's last name because my maiden name is…" She stopped, needing to take a breath." It's just… It's not fair. I didn't do anything wrong and I'm the one struggling. I'm the one they ask why he did what he did while he gets to hide behind these walls. I've still got people calling my kids, asking for an interview with the sister of the Midwife of Montrose. " Her hand came up to her face, shielding her eyes with the back of her gloved hand.

Nicola shifted uncomfortably, not expecting this much emotion "I'm sorry." She said. "I didn't mean to bring this all up again. It is unfair, though." She said, moving to pat the woman's back, but finding it just out of her reach. "You should just go home. If Dr. Snow calls, ignore it, or better yet, tell them you want to talk to Nicola Eizenstadt. If they give you lip about me being just an orderly, tell them to go fuck themselves and get me on the phone. The thing with the doctors here is that they don't care what is best for you. They care about what is best for him. I couldn't give less of a-" She stopped, needing to reword herself. "I don't know what's best for you, but I do know that this can't be it."

"Nicola Eizenstadt. You have a pretty name."

Nicola didn't have the heart to say she hated her maiden name for the same reason Silvia hated her own. "Thanks."

"I think I'm just going to go home now." Silvia mumbled, her emotional breakdown fading as the walls built themselves up again. "My son is going out with his husband and someone needs to watch the baby."

"Babies are the best, aren't they?"

"They are the best." Silvia responded, offering a smile before turning away, quickly turning back as she remembered something. "Before all this, you were talking as if you didn't have a choice if you got to come here or not. What does that mean? You're young. I'm sure you could easily get into a new career."

Nicola followed after needing to sit down soon. She noticed Benny standing at the desk with the secretary, both of them staring at Silvia. "It's hard to walk away when Murkoff has treated me so well. Benefits. What can I say?"


	4. Witch Drums

Nicola stiffened, pain shooting up her spine as she stepped on her foot wrong. Feeling the pressure of her injured foot against the floor was a blessing for her chaffed underarms, but a curse for the skin and tendon of her ankle, which still itched and stretched uncomfortably as it got used to being used again. Benny was at her side, joking about how slow she was while offering her a hand seemingly every five steps, ignoring Nicola's pleas for independence. They made small talk of Murkoff's new employee, Waylon Park, and how much they were putting in the betting pool for how long it would take him to cry for home.

"The guy has family. I'm giving it two weeks." Benny insisted as he unlocked the carabiner from the loop on his scrubs, searching through the mass of keys that Nicola had fortunately let him color code with her nail polish. "Twenty bucks. How about you?" He continued, the door creaking under his touch after he unlocked it.

"I don't mess with these betting pool things anymore, not after I lost big on this one bet. I was on lice duty the next time there was an outbreak." Nicola said as she limped in, taking mental inventory of the good doctor's mess of an office. "Where is Snow, anyway?"

"He's downstairs. What was the bet on?"

"Some asshole named Benjamin Foster started working here and I wagered that he would last about three weeks. He ended up bawling his eyes out on the second day." She said, ignoring the growing shade of Benny's cheeks as she made her way to the desk, picking up the picture of Snow's wife and daughter and wiping it with the hem of her scrubs. "Can you get the trash? I'll dust or some shit." She mumbled, eyes glancing over the folders the lay scattered on the desk, looking over the names that were messily scribbled on each tab. Benny made his way out, needing the time to think of how to casually insult her in return as she pulled at the few folders that had caught her attention. She flipped through the reports and notes of each one, the only unusual thing was the lack of documentation of visitation. She looked at the tab once more, making sure she had the right one. Eizenstadt was written in black letters on the front. She looked inside another folder, which was also lacking notes about visitation. It was only filled with the ramblings of a serial killer looking to get brownie points and discussion about the events happening in photos that were strangely missing from the file.

Nicola kneeled down in front of the drawers that were a part of the desk, finding it too much of a strain on her ankle before taking a seat in Snow's IKEA office chair. She opened the first drawer, finding only more files, Eizenstadt and Gluskin missing from the alphabetical order. She tried the second one, finding it to be locked just in time for Benny to come back in, trash bag in hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, shutting the door behind him so they wouldn't attract attention from the outside hall. "Don't go messing with that shit. You could get in trouble."

"Oh look who's talking about getting in trouble now? I think I remember you telling me to piss in doctor's coffees one time. Are you going to tell on me?" She smirked as she blindly ran her hand on the underside of the desk, trying to find the key to the desk drawers. Benny walked over, shaking the trash bag he had brought, his eyes remaining cautiously on her.

"Pissing in people you hate's coffee is one thing, but this isn't about Dr. Snow." He continued on, walking over and attempting to pull Nicola's hand away, only to receive a firm smack against the flesh of his forearm.

"Don't fucking touch me!" She exclaimed, eyes boring into him as she silently dared him to try again, only distracted by the feeling of smooth metal and tape under her fingertips. "Empty the fucking trash." She demanded as she unlocked the first drawer, looking inside.

The metal container was littered with papers carelessly tossed inside, wrinkled and well-read. On the bottom, a magpie's stash of trinkets clinked against the metal of the drawer. There were various rings, toys, figurines, none of them catching her eye. She picked up the stack of papers, the email addresses on the header marking them as printed conversations.

_From: G. Snow, MMA (1249-1)  
_

_To: A. Taylor, MMA (1142-1)  
_

_Subject: Paying Debts_

_Andrew,_

_ I'm guessing by your lack of a reply that my experiment is showing progress. What has you so frazzled? We both have the same goal here, only different ways of getting there. Are you scared that Blaire will cut your funding if he sees your tests bearing no fruit? Don't worry. I wouldn't tell on a dear friend, as long as that dear friend keeps his end of our little wager._

_I'm honestly surprised Gluskin isn't the one showing improvement, what with the way he was shouting and shaking when his sister left and how he sang praises of his progress with the Walrider. Perhaps this is the beginning of a new hypothesis? Is recent physical abuse a requirement for results? I suppose we will soon find out. I'm sure there are people just itching to get their hands on some of the subjects set to be primed, though be sure to give Eizenstadt an extra kick, just in case._

_Since I have won this wager of ours, I'd like dinner for my wife and I to be somewhere nice, somewhere outrageously expensive, somewhere far, far away from here. I want to be so far away that I won't be able to hear your whining as you cry about your machines and equations not producing results and your wallet being empty._

_To lift your spirits, I will say that machines do have some advantages over the human mind and body. You beat a machine around and it is guaranteed to break. You beat a person around and you can never be quite sure what you'll end up with. You might end up breaking it, or end up with a completely different person, a variant if you will._

_Have fun eating breakfast burritos for a week._

_ Dr. Garnett Snow_

_From: A. Taylor, MMA (1142-1)  
_

_To: G. Snow, MMA (1249-1)  
_

_Subject: RE: Paying Debts_

_Garnett,_

_go fuck yourself you overdramatic piece of shit_

_ Dr. Andrew Taylor_

_From: G. Snow, MMA (1249-1)  
_

_To: A. Taylor, MMA (1142-1)  
_

_Subject: RE: RE: Paying Debts_

_ Andrew,_

_Colorful as always. Don't try to back your way out of this bet this time, or I might have to list cowardice as a new symptom of PPSD. I'm sure Blaire would have a hay day with that._

_ Dr. Garnett Snow_

Nicola bit her lip, hiding her emotion as she skimmed through the rest of the conversations, seeing much of the same thing before putting the papers back. She fumbled with the key, Benny trying to interfere again as he reached over to tried to grab it from her. She pushed him away, physically threatening him with a punch before she returned to her mission, unlocking the final drawer. She pushed the chair back as used Kleenex' fell out, the orderly covering her mouth as the contents of the drawer were nothing more than crusty napkins and a few polaroids that laid on top of the disgusting mess.

She carefully picked a photograph up, using only the tips of her fingernails as she brought it to her face, horrified by what she saw, but more so by the way the old Polaroid cracked from the crust on it and the way it tried to stick to the tips of her fingers.

"You fucking knew about this!" She screamed, turning around in the chair and throwing the picture in Benny's direction. She was on her feet quicker than expected, her ankle threatening to give out as she began punching Benny's head, her fists only stopped by his hands clutching her wrists. "You fucking knew about this you piece of shit! You fucking sicko! What is wrong with you?!" She shouted at him, Benny trying to block his stomach from her knees as she tried to kick him, soon shoving her way. Her ankle gave out, Nicola attempting to grab the handle of the door to stop her fall, but failing, her head skidding against the door before hitting the ground.

"Nic. I'm sorry, okay? I don't have anything to do with this, I swear! He said he wou-"Nicola didn't want to hear his excuses, attempting to shove him once she got to her feet, only to be pushed to the side again. Benny continued to apologize as Nicola pulled away, leaving Benny to finish his job on his own as she limped back to her room, the sleeve of her shirt soaking up tears in place of Kleenex.

Nicola's feet dragged under her, the wall becoming her support as she denied every employee's offer for assistance. She was afraid that they knew of Dr. Snow's behavior as well and that their knowledge would somehow infect her, digging into her bones and flesh, making her just as complacent as the rest of them. She wondered if everyone had known except her, if they were putting on a smile while they knew she was being used as a means to an end, a tool.

Her body went through the motions of unlocking her door, her movements stiff and robotic as she struggled with processing what she had seen. Her cardigan laid on her bed, waiting for her as it always did. She picked it up and held it against her face, the wool scratching against her skin as she took in a deep breath. Joy by Jean Patou, just like what her mother sprayed on her wrists and neck every morning. Nicola fall onto her bed, the springs heaving with her weight as she curled around the piece of clothing, positioning its empty sleeves around her as she laid there in the silence. She stayed there until the phantom sensation of the sleeves being filled crept around her body, her form going rigid as she swore she felt the imaginary arms squeeze.

Her rarely touched baggage case laid in the middle of the floor, toiletries and necessities messily thrown in along with what few valuables Nicola had. She sat on her bed, bare feet anxiously kicking back and forth as she looked up a taxi company in the phone book. She wondered how much she would have to pay for someone to drive up a mountain, her thoughts interrupted by the blaring sound of her phone ringing. Her eyes trained on the red light that blinked every time it rang, counting them down, mentally weighing if it was better for her to be fired over phone or for them to come drag her out. She picked up before the last ring.

"Hello?" She asked, twiddling with the hem of her scrubs.

"Hey Nic." Naomi's voice chimed, Nicola's chest tightening as she feared that Blaire had sent her to be the reaper. "There's a Miss Silvia Bridges on the line. She said it was okay for her to call you if she needed to." Nic's breath caught in her throat, the photos she saw flashing before her eyes, the sound of cracking resonating in her ears.

"Yeah. I said it was okay. Put her on." Nicola replied, a small beep following after as the line switched over. "Is this Silvia? Silvia Bridges?"

"Nicola, right? Oh god I'm so sorry for calling." Silvia responded, coughing soon after. "Sorry, I just had a smoke."

"No. No it's okay. I said you could if you needed to. What going on?"

"I just… He called me again." She continued, defeated in her response. "He called against asking to make another appointment and that seeing me helped Eddie open up more."

"And what did you say?" Nicola inquired, Dr. Snow's secrets dancing behind her teeth, desperate to escape.

"I told him I would think about it."

"That's good." Nicola replied, elevating her sore ankle as she stared at the door. "You did the right thing. Just keep telling yourself that." She said, sighing shakily as she heard the sound of a baby's whimpering in the background. "Is there a baby there? Grandkid?"

"Yeah, my little granddaughter. I was trying to teach her how to make paper flowers, but she wasn't having any of it. She's only one, so I don't know what I was expecting. The best she could do was make a spitball. I've raised three kids and I still don't get a babies' fascination with putting things in their mouth." She said, the baby continuing to cry in the distance.

"Paper flowers? Like the ones they decorate invitations and stuff with?"

"Yeah. It's kind of a little tradition I made up with my family. It's more for me than them, though. My boys hated it, but now all of them are better at it than I ever was."

"Did your mother teach you?"

A chuckle escaped the woman's lips, her breath wheezing. "No. One of the ladies that dad brought in and out of our taught Eddie, and he ended up teaching me." Nicola froze up at the mention of Eddie's name, astonished by how Silvia could say it without an ounce of venom on her tongue. It made Nicola uncomfortable how his name didn't sting Silvia like she thought it would. It was something she envied.

"Sounds nice." Nicola replied, kicking the top of her baggage over. "Listen. I have to go. I'm glad you called me and all, but I'm actually getting ready for my vacation. It sounds like you are busy too." She said, not only the baby's crying getting to her, but Silvia's apparent lack of action concerning it.

"Oh. I'll let you get to it, then. Are you going somewhere special?

"Just away from here, really. I probably won't even leave the state."

"Maybe we can get coffee or something?" Silvia asked. Nic couldn't deny the elation, the excitement that built in her stomach at the thought of finally having someone to talk to about what had been stuck on her tongue for the last year and a half, only to have the feeling deflate as she remembered the secrets she would have to spill.

"That sounds pretty nice, actually."

"Do you want me to give you my number? I don't have a cell phone, so I hope you don't mind calling the home phone. I doubt my kid will."

"Sure. Just give me a moment to find something to write it down with." She said, skipping the detail that she didn't have a cell phone either. She slipped off of her bed, her blanket falling to the ground behind her as she limped over to her desk. Her search for a notepad was interrupted by the loud screeching of the intercom coming to life, someone's sobs causing the speakers to erupt into loud static and feedback.

"Somebody help me. Oh god I'm losing my baby. I'm losing my baby."

Nicola rounded the corner, trying to see her friend through the crowd of scrubs that had gathered around the secretary's desk. All she could see of Naomi was the blood that the staff stayed inches away from in fear that they would get it on their shoes. Nic pushed them aside, ignoring their complaints as she purposely flicked blood in their direction with her shoes. "If you aren't going to help, then go and do your fucking job." She hissed at them, blood quickly soaking through the fabric of her scrubs as she got down to Naomi's level. "Did you call an ambulance? "She asked, the secretary nodded in response. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheeks red from ragged breathing, but she kept her chin up. She tried to remain strong.

"It's going to be a while, though, what with having to drive up a fucking mountain." She groaned. "Am I going to die?" She asked, sincere even through her gritted teeth.

"No. No. You're not going to die. You're going to be fine. Just hold onto me, okay?" Nicola pulled the woman's arms around her, her arms curling around Naomi in return. "Just hold onto me and squeeze. Just keep squeezing." Naomi squeezed, keeping her eyes fixated on Nicola instead of the slowly growing pool of blood around her. "Has a doctor came by yet?" Naomi shook her head, giving another trembling squeeze.

"Don't leave me." Naomi whimpered.

"I'm not going to leave you. I'm going with you to the hospital." She insisted, thinking of the cardigan she left in her room. It tore at her to leave it behind. It tore at her even more to think some depraved monster would eventually put his hands all over it, smelling it and not knowing why or who it smelled off, only thinking that it stunk. The thought of leaving just to get it back raced in her mind.

The sounds of a doctor's expensive loafers could be heard making their way through the thinning crowd. "Look. Look. There's a doctor now. He can help you more than I can." She said, looking up to see Dr. Snow putting on medical gloves. Nicola watched the man closely, tensing as Naomi assisted him with pulling off her blood stained trousers. "Maybe she should wait until the ambulance. Do we even have the equipment here to handle this?"

Dr. Snow continued on, looking through the supplies he had brought in his medical kit. "No we don't, though I doubt an ambulance does, either. It wouldn't hurt to see if there is something that can be done about the bleeding, though. Luckily it has slowed down. Are you still with us, Naomi?" He asked, loudly snapping his fingers in front of Naomi's face, Nicola flinching in response. She felt a squeeze from around her waist.

"She's here. Just do what you need to do."

Naomi had passed out in Nicola's arms, her shallow breathing against Nicola's neck the only sign that Nicola wasn't holding a corpse. A towel had been placed over Naomi's lap to shelter her from eyes that dared wander when she couldn't say no, eyes that Nicola made sure weren't Dr. Snow's. Her stare was on him constantly, making sure he didn't even twitch without her knowing. "I'm going with her when the ambulance gets here. I'm sure Benny will be able to cover my shifts while I'm gone." She matter-of-factly said.

"Mr. Foster was recently brought under Murkoff's medical care. There was significant proof that he was suffering from PPSD, and when we found him, he had to be sedated. It's unfortunate. It seems like not a day goes by that another case doesn't manifest. Doesn't it seem like we are all dropping like flies these days?" He asked. Nicola was about to respond, verbal acid burning in her mouth, until she noticed the red and blue lights faintly flickering off the rim of his glasses. She looked to the door, watching the ambulance shakily make its way up the gravel road. Another orderly opened the door for them as Nicola stood, holding Naomi in her arms as she carefully navigated around the desk.

"I'm going with her." She told the EMTs as they strapped Naomi onto the gurney, not even looking back as they began moving. She knew this was her last time in this place. Her things would sit in her room, probably to be riffled through and passed around in the bowels of the asylum. There was no home for her to run to, and while she had money in her bank account, it wasn't going to be enough. Nothing was waiting for her past those double doors, and as much as it scared her, what she was leaving behind scared her more. She squeezed Naomi's hand hard.

The doors squeaked loudly, protesting as the gurney was pushed through, Nicola holding one of them open as she attempted to make her way through the tight squeeze. Formidable arms latched around her, yanking her back and off the ground in one motion. She kicked and squirmed, screaming for the EMTs as they continued through the door, noticing how they looked back at her before looking away. She jabbed her elbow at whoever held her, hearing the satisfying crack of a broken nose as she was dropped. She ran back to the door, ankle burning as she pushed it open and found herself in the cold rain.

"YOU HAVE TO TAKE ME!" Nicola screamed at the paramedics at they loaded Naomi up, one of them looking to her, guilt riddling his gaze as he hopped in with his partner. Nicola attempted to climb in, her hands raking as the textured floor of the ambulance, trying to fight off the feet of the medics as they tried to carefully kick her away. The engine of the vehicle came to life as the wheels began to move. "HELP ME! PLEASE" She cried out, muffled by the sounds of thunder overhead as she tried to climb onto the bumper, her legs being dragged through the jagged gravel after she tripped over her own feet. The surface was too slippery, though, her grip quickly failing, leaving her to fall face first as the ambulance made its way through the gate. She watched as the flashing lights disappeared around the bend.

Unforgiving hands grasped at her ankle, her stomach scraping against the uneven road as they pulled her back. Someone secured her by her wrists, hoisting her off the ground. She screamed, undulating in their arms as she tried to get at least a leg or an arm free. A sharp pinch entered the back of her leg, her wet and muddy hair blocking her view as she tried to see what she already knew what was happening.

"I'm sorry, Miss Eizenstadt, but we're going to have to place you in involuntary hold until you calm down. I know this job can be very stressful, and it is hard losing a dear friend, but that is no excuse for this level of unprofessionalism." Dr. Snow's voice droned on, melting into garble and gibberish to Nicola's fading senses. She barely recognized the pattern of the lobby carpet, her heavy eyes glazing over the brown stain they had poorly attempted to hide with furniture. The squealing of the elevator's cage could be heard in front of her, carpet replaced by metal as she was carried inside.

Her face met the cold surface of the floor, drool leaving her mouth as she tried to move any part of her body. Vomit burned her throat as she felt the elevator jerk into motion, the cables groaning from the weight as the box slowly began its descent.


	5. Intermission

They always ask when I knew he was a monster. They always ask 'Silvia, what was the pivotal moment where you knew a serial killer was living under your roof, was your own flesh and blood, your own twin?' as if they had any sort of idea of what I've gone through. To retaliate, I tell them a story. It makes them uncomfortable. I can tell by the way they adjust their watches or try to find the crumbs on the table of the cheap diner they offered to take me to for an interview, a look into the mind and life of the notorious 'Midwife of Montrose'. They don't understand why I keep telling it. The younger ones think I'm finally losing it. Maybe I am, but I'm not the one asking relatives of serial killers these questions. I'm just answering them.

It was in the double wide trailer, the one with the lone brown stripe down the middle on the outside. The living room was still filled with moving boxes stuffed with things that didn't belong to us, or our dad for that matter. The carpet smelled of cat urine and was a similar shade of yellow. It was coarse and crusty under our feet and knees. The walls were decorated with tacky wood paneling that did little to keep the cold out in the winter months.

Eddie and I sat in the living room, dad's T-shirts hanging off our tiny bodies, our dirty baby blanket the only thing protecting us from the lack of heating and the holes in the screen door that dad refused to shut. Our eyes were glued to the TV, ignoring the purple of burnt out lights in the corner of the screen. One of the women dad brought over brought a copy of Cinderella with her, leaving us to watch it while dad did whatever adults did with her. He told us she was our new mom. We had a new mom about every month or so. She was one of the nicest. She taught us how to make flowers. I can't remember her name.

I remember crawling into Eddie's shirt, both of our heads popping out of the head hole of dad's double extra-large as we watched the mice run around, helping Cinderella achieve her happy ending through the magic of dreams and wishes. Hand in hand, we wished the prince would find Cinderella. We wished that she would finally be free of the evil stepmother, and our wish came true the moment the prince slipped that glass slipper on her foot. I knew how to work the VCR, so we watched it over and over, trying to sing along to the songs, dancing along with Cinderella and her prince, reenacting the glass slipper scene with one of dad's giant work boots.

Dad walked in on us dancing around with one of his boots on each of us, screaming about how he would snap the tape in half if we didn't stop stomping around the house and making noise. We got in trouble later for singing 'A Dream is A Wish Your Heart Makes' and we were forced to watch as he ripped out the film and melted it on the electric stove. We stayed quiet, watching it turn to mush as we cried. We thought he had actually burned Cinderella and her Prince alive, that they were dead and gone along with their happy ending. We held a funeral for them, complete with paper flowers and a rock in the backyard that we put the sticky remains underneath. It was the middle of winter and we almost got frostbite giving a eulogy to fictional characters. Our neighbors noticed us before Dad and Uncle Roger did, but they didn't call CPS. They had kids of their own and didn't want services around for their own reasons. Fortunately Dad was too out of it and forgot why were huddled around the space heater when he came to.

The reporters sometimes ask what that has to do with Eddie becoming a serial killer. I tell them that there was no magical moment where he metamorphosed from my twin into a murderer. He was always, the brother that shared a shirt with me, watching someone's dream come true on that burnt out screen. At this point, some of them pull out a recording of the anonymous call that lead to Eddie's arrest. This is what I pay for my part of the dinner and leave.


	6. Strange Men

"Tests show a genetic disposition to mental illness. There's also a family history of manic depression, night terrors, and other mental disorders. Employee history shows violent tendencies towards those deemed lower in status by superiors, but look at this. She gets a gold star in kissing the asses of higher-ups. Predictable. The least these people could do was be somewhat interesting." The sound of a clipboard smacking against someone's hand burrowed into her senses as she struggled to wake up from her unwilling slumber. Everything was foggy and dull to her, even the feeling of her hair stuck to the back of her neck and face, still wet with rain. "Honestly I don't know what Blaire and Snow are thinking with this whole thing. One patient shows progress and suddenly everyone is rock hard for this 'priming' shit and now it's alright to keep a liability and waste of resources here. Nobody ever listens to me, I swear. I literally sat Blaire down and told him why this kind of shit can't happen and what do I get for it? I get to be the one that babysits some orderly with daddy issues and a problem with snooping around. I honestly don't even know anymore. I'm half tempted to throw her in the engine and show Blaire why we don't waste money and time on female patients."

"Nobody listens to you because all you do is complain, plus you have a problem staring at people."

"Staring at people? When did it become wrong to look at people? I've been stuck in this fuckhole for far too long with the promise of a vacation always just out or reach. Excuse me if I look at people in hopes that maybe, for once, someone will talk to me about something other than bronchial accumulation or lateral ascension. Excuse me if I didn't know the art of polite conversation was dead. Seriously, would it kill anyone to at least ask me how I'm doing?"

"See what I'm talking about?"

"What? I'm not staring at you."

A frustrated sigh was followed by the shuffling of feet in her direction. A gloved hand pressed against her forehead, forcing her head back as a pen light was focused on her right eye. She pulled away, feeling salt and water wash against her eye was she fought against the person's attempts to continue his exam. A pair of hands came out from behind her, clamping against her temples as she struggled against the restraints holding her limbs down. Her shins ached in pain, scraped raw from being dragged behind the ambulance, as the metal of the restraints dug into her sensitive flesh. The chair she was stuck in shook and threatened to come loose from the floor, grating against the screws that barely kept it down. "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" She screamed, the scent of rubber filling her nose as the person in front of her pushed his hand over her mouth and nose. She tried to bite, her teeth snagging on the glove, not skin like she had hoped.

"Good to see you're awake." The man behind her sneered as he kept her head straight, smacking her upside the head as she continued to avoid the light. She only caught glimpses of him, what looked to be a medical isolation suit surrounding his face. Wrinkles pulled at his features. His grey eyes were deeply sunken into his face, looking like someone lazily laid skin on top of a skull. It was obvious he hadn't seen sleep in days. "Snow sends his apologies for the whole chemical restraint thing, but I think we both know he doesn't mean it. People like him never really mean what they say, do they?" Nicola continued to fight back, nostrils flaring as she hyperventilated, the cupped hand over her mouth and nose making it difficult to breathe. "Will you fucking stop that? I'm trying to be cordial here. The least you could do is not act like an animal. If you would stop fighting, my friend here will let you speak. Deal?" Nicola rolled her eyes at the thought of her word having any value when she was held against her will, but she stopped, beginning to feel light headed from the lack of air. "Thank you. Anyway, my name is Dr. Taylor. You can call me Andrew if you like. My friend here is ."

"What? I don't get a first name? You don't even remember it, do you?" The other doctor butted in, the two casually assaulting each other as they held her head hostage. Like his coworker, most of Greatford's features were hidden away by an isolation suit. A gas mask hung from his neck, her reflection twisted on the reflective surface of the plastic faceguard. He looked considerably younger compared to Andrew, just beginning to show signs of insomnia and poor diet.

Cold, metallic air filled her lungs again as Greatford took his hand away. Nicola's lip wound had opened again from the struggle, blood staining the dull blue of the doctor's glove. "Stop shining that fucking light in my face." She said before sucking on her lip, feeling the blood threaten to trickle down her chin. "Why am I here? What's going on?" Standard questions she hoped she would get truthful answers for. "Why am I restrained?" There was a wall of televisions in front of her, currently turned off, but she could see the flickering lights from the other rooms next to hers. They were separated by only sheets of bullet proof glass. She turned to look in the other room, swearing she heard people screaming, but was forced to look ahead by Andrew.

"You're restrained because we thought it would be fun. It's part of the new training course, you know? It's not ethical to put others through this without going through it yourself, kinda like how officers of the law have to get pepper sprayed before they can use it themselves." He seemed more amused by his joke than anyone else. "What the fuck do you think is going on here?" He said, his tone horrifyingly calm as he brought a metal bar around her forehead, rendering her unable to turn her neck. "Why you are here doesn't matter, Miss…" He trailed off, snapping his fingers at Greatford, the fellow doctor producing a clipboard, visibly annoyed by his comrade's treatment of him.

"Eizenstadt."

"Eizenstadt." Andrew repeated, drawing out the vowels of her name. "You know, I never found playing dumb to be an attractive quality in a woman. I mean, nobody can be dumb enough to think digging around in the wrong places wouldn't have consequences." He reached down next to her, the chair she was strapped to suddenly giving as she fell back. His face was over her, examining every twitch of muscle under her skin, how her pupils dilated as she tried to focus on him. The sound of a chair stressing under someone's weight rang in her ear as he took a seat near her head. His face disappeared from her vision as he pushed the office chair around, the wheels scraping against the ground as they refused to rotate. Greatford only looked on before continuing taking notes. He had seen this too many times to care.

Suddenly the sound of something banging on metal was ringing in her ear, bits of something falling to the ground in a shower of metallic noises. Nicola jerked away, the metal band holding her head down pressing into her skin, digging hard. She could feel her pulse in her throat and her mouth dry up as the terror or the situation began to sink in.

"What the hell was that?" She cried out, her knuckles white as her grip tightened on her chair.

"It doesn't matter." Andrew mused, unphased by the sound since he was the one that caused it. "Just a few scalpels accidently finding their way onto the floor. Anyway, Miss Eizenstadt, what you should really be asking is what you can do for us. You should know the game by now. Do well, don't make any splashes, and nothing bad, well, nothing worse will happen. It's simple"

"What does any of this have to do with me? Go fuck with someone else and just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone what's going on here. I just want to go home."

Andrew scoffed, spinning around in his chair, letting his foot hit the base of the chair Nicola was strapped into, causing her to flinch. "This isn't about if you squeal or not. It never was. As if you ever could. This is about you, dear old dad, and all the fucked up family matters between you two."

"Is this because of what I did to him? You could've stopped me! Snow told me there were guards and cameras an-" She was cut off by a gloved hand once more, Andrew shushing her as if she were a little girl.

"We want you to do that again." His other hand caringly pulled her wet hair away from her skin, digging under the forehead restraint to get it all to one side. "Well, Snow wants you to do it again. I couldn't care less." He added, the rubber of his glove audibly stretching as he collected her hair in one hand before twisting hard. Nicola bit her lip as she jerked around in her seat, trying to pull away from his grip, but only making the pain worse. "Yeah, your little spat with daddy dearest just might've done what we all thought was impossible."

Nicola rebutted, her response muffled until he lifted his hand away. She spat in his face, trying to muster up enough saliva to do it again until he slapped it right out of her mouth. He pushed his fingers hard under her cheekbones, keeping her just out of biting distance.

"Fuck you, you disgusting asshole. I'm not doing shit for you. Beat him up yourself." Nicola said, unable to do anything about the spittle rolling down her chin.

"It just wouldn't be the same if I beat the shit out of him. It's about who is punching him, not how many times, how hard you do it, or how many teeth he loses in the process. He doesn't really have much to lose in the first place, anyway. I've seen the video of you in the visitation room with him. Snow kept it just in case you somehow managed to get out and thought it would be a brilliant idea to go up against a billion dollar corporation. I can tell how much you liked it. It's okay to admit it. I won't tell anyone and Greatford doesn't have any friends, so your dirty little secret is safe with us." She could smell his breath, rank with whatever excuse for food they had down there, as he leaned in close. Her skin crawled, muscles tensing as his chapped lips pressed against the bridge of her nose in some twisted version of a kiss. "Tell me how good it felt to see him begging for it to stop. My lips are sealed."

"You are seriously creeping me out, Andrew. Stop it." Greatford finally spoke up, his hands hooking around Andrew's arms and pulling him back. A bit of saliva continued to connect them for a split second. "I'm tired. Can we please just get this over with? I want to call my kid tonight."

"Fine. Fine. Can't keep a man from his family. I understand." Andrew complied, swatting his hands away before using his own suit to wipe the spit from Nicola's face. She moved to bite him, kept back by the digging of metal into her forehead. "I see it as a win-win for both of us. You get to handle that little anger problem, get back at dad for whatever he did, and I get a quiet Snow and the satisfaction when his stupid theory comes crashing down. What do you say, Eizenstadt?"

"What? No. You and Snow can go fuck yourselves for all I care."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

"Not going to spare a second thought?"

"No."

"You probably think you have it all figured out, don't you?" Andrew asked, motioning to someone behind her, the sound of a sealed door opening soon after with an audible release of pressure. "You probably think that you'll get to live as long as you say no, right? You think that we can only beat you so hard because we need you alive?" He stopped talking as he pressed his finger into the space between her eyes, twisting until she felt the uncomfortable skin burn under his touch. "You know, your dad reacted spectacularly when you beat the ever-loving shit out of him. I wonder how he'd react to seeing you bleed out right next to him when he can't do a thing about it." Two larger men came in, taking off her restraints, fully prepared for her struggle as one quickly put her in a headlock, the other grabbing her feet, shackles in hand. "Don't think you're so fucking special. Snow has plenty of people he could use. You just happened to be the closest."

The guards didn't bother to pick her feet up, letting them drag against the polished floors of the asylum. The prisoners howled and pressed against the bars, grabbing for her, her tattered and bloodied uniform just out of reach of their scabbed fingers. She could feel flecks of spit and other bodily fluids as they fought against steel to smell her hair, feel her skin, and see what she was like on the inside in the worst kind of way.

Her head was kept down, dirty and matted locks filled her sight. They swayed back and forth in time with the guards' footsteps. Blood gurgled in the back of her throat, spilling onto the floor and disappearing as she coughed it up. Nicola tried to say something, finally trying to gain her footing as she felt her own blood mopped up by her toes. "Help me. Please." She managed to look up as they stopped at one cell, one guard preoccupied with opening it. She saw a face she had seen before. She couldn't put a name to him, but she knew him. "I need to get out of here. They are going to kill me." She whimpered through stained teeth as the guard kept his eyes ahead.

Nicola was guided inside, her eyes staying on the guard's face even as the door closed between them. She looked through the small window, unable to see much through the smears and dust that had collected on its surface. Giving up, she turned around to see her father laying on the cot, vomit trailing down his face as he groaned in pain. A towel was under his head, elevating it so he wouldn't drown on his own vomit and foam. Nicola could only guess he had gone through some sort of seizure. She stayed at the door, keeping a hand on the smooth surface as she watched him, holding her breath as she waited for something to happen, for him to spring to life at the arrival of his little girl.

"Please don't hurt me again." He mumbled, using the ball of his remaining hand to wipe away the drool and vomit that dribbled down his face. "Please don't. Everything hurts already."

"I'm not going to hurt you." She retorted, knowing what Snow or Andrew or whoever was in charge was trying to do. Put two dogs that don't like each other in a tiny cage, and one is bound to bite the other.

"Nikki. Nikki you need to get out of here." He said, voice monotone as he slowly came back to his senses.

"No shit, Scott. No fucking shit." She mumbled, feeling the blood from her missing teeth pool in her mouth again, spitting it to the side. "Do you have any idea what sick shit they are doing down here and why I need to be here for it?"

"I don't know. I don't know what they're talking about, but they make me watch this thing and stick all these tubes in me. I don't remember anything, just these dreams."

"What thing?"

"It's like one of those ink blot tests." He tried to shift his weight, the heel of his foot pushing at the flimsy mattress on his bed as he turned his back to the wall. He coughed up the contents sitting in the back of his throat into the towel.

"They stick tubes in you to take an ink blot test?" She asked as she made the farthest corner away from him into her territory, sitting down and laying her swollen cheek against the cool ceramic of the toilet's tank.

"You don't believe me? Look at this. This is where they put the tubes." He replied, pulling at his uniform enough that she could see the port sticking out of the skin under his collarbone. "I don't know what they are giving me. They just… do."

"It looks like a dialysis port, Scott."

"I know what a fucking dialysis port is. I'm not stupid." He continued on, the temper they shared flaring up even as he remained groggy and light headed. He pulled down the other side of his collar, showing the other port that mirrored the first one. "There are more than two. They are everywhere. They stick all sorts of tubes in my nose and mouth and they don't tell me why. They just push me in there and I wake up here with all these images in my head of this monster thing ripping me apart."

"Where is there? Can you at least tell me that?" He stayed thought to himself, unable to come up with an answer.

"Why are you here?" He asked her, his head feeling like it would crack open and everything would spill out at any moment.

"I found some stuff I wasn't supposed to find and now I'm here, but beyond that, I don't really know. I just have bits and pieces of things. I tried to run." She paused for a moment as her hands found her temple, lightly pressing against it as she moved around to find a new cool spot on the tank. "I knew something was up. I saw it a long time ago but I didn't do anything about it until it was too late, so now I'm here. They want me to beat you again. It didn't make a lick of sense to me why they want me to, just that I had to."

"Are you?" He asked, head rolling to the side as the rest of his body followed.

"I don't really have anything to gain from it, so why should I?"

"Why don't you, though?" He asked, his one good eye looking to the ground, its usual dusty green color diluted into something sickly and dull. "I'm guessing that is why you're all…" He raised his hand, gesturing to all of her body.

"Yeah, it is why I look like shit. I didn't really think stuff like this happened in reality, so I tried calling their bluff. I thought this was all some really fucked up joke at first, but now I don't know who is more sick now, the patients are the people working on them, doing all this horrible shit." She sighed shakily, wondering if anything she had done, beyond the obvious, had contributed to whatever these sick people were doing under her feet.

"You don't have to go through all of this to protect me." Scott said, Nicola wiping the smile off her face at the thought of her getting beaten to a bloody pulp being for him. "Do you even regret what you did?" He replied, agitated and scared at the thought that he had helped raised an emotionless being. "You talk about how you don't want to do what they want, but is it really because you regret it, that you regret taking a fucking crutch to my face while I couldn't defend myself?" He barked at her, voice raspy and cracking. Nicola stared at him, crossing her arms as his foggy stare stayed on her. She felt needles under her skin as he poked and prodded for an answer that suited him, that would make him somehow feel better for what had happened.

"Do you remember, when I was little, and you and mom were losing your shit because I was an early bloomer and you were afraid that some fifty year old was going to drive up and kidnap me just because I had to start wearing training bras earlier than a lot of girls? Do you remember how, instead of maybe giving me pepper spray or taking me to self-defense classes or something else, you started driving me to school and pretty much everywhere else within walking distance until I could drive myself?" He nodded, pushing himself up and offering her a seat, which she declined. "I remember this one time we were in the car, and you looked at me, and said, with so much seriousness that it scared me, that if someone did attack me or something happened, I should just give them what they want. I remember thinking that was the stupidest piece of advice I had ever gotten, and I always wondered why you would ever say that to your own daughter, but for some reason I still followed it. I kissed ass in hopes nobody would attack me or say bad things about me. I looked the other way when boys talked about me, because I didn't want them to take it a step further and talk to me, or worse. I lived in fear of what could happen, and even after I trained in self-defense and getting that pepper spray, I was still scared. I'm always scared of the 'what if'. Well, now the 'what if' has happened, and yeah, it happened because for once I didn't just look away, but I don't regret it. I don't regret it happening. I regret it not happening sooner. Maybe then I wouldn't be here. Does that answer your fucking question?"

"So you don't regret hurting me?"

"I don't really see the point in regretting it since you have no regret doing the same to me."

"What did I ever do to you to make you think that everything I've done is to attack you? I drove you to school to protect you from some sick fuck snatching you up. I did what I had to do to keep you safe. It's my job. I'm your dad." Scott responded, using his sleeve to wipe the gunk that emitted from his eyes in place of tears. "I don't understand why you hate me so much."

Nicola looked to him, looking away to avoid the familiar pang that flourished when she saw him cry. "Because you tricked me into thinking you were a good person for so long that even now I can't stand seeing you like this, and I hate it. I hate myself because I can't hate you as much as I want to. You killed mom. You took her away from me, and yet I look at you and I still see my dad first and a murderer second." She curled in on herself, feeling the tears come.

Scott stared at her, confused and shocked by what she just said.

"What? No. I didn't kill Joyce. She's at home, waiting for us."


End file.
